


oikawa kind of love

by themysterytwins



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: (at first), Fluff, M/M, Unrequited Love, emo iwa, theres some....makin out, this is so gay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-20
Updated: 2016-11-20
Packaged: 2018-08-31 10:34:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8574961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/themysterytwins/pseuds/themysterytwins
Summary: because loving oikawa was not romantic. it was just oikawa.





	

**Author's Note:**

> its That Kind of iwaoi fic

Iwaizumi Hajime has been in love with Oikawa Tooru since the sixth grade. 

 

Or at least, realized he was then. He fell for him long before. 

 

He loves his smile and the way he laughs and his dumb face and how his nose crinkles and the freckles that dot his cheeks and his unruly hair and the way he plays volleyball and that look he gets on his face right before he serves, like he could take the whole world and win. 

 

He realized this wasn’t how you were supposed to feel about your best friend very early on. It just wasn’t normal to want to intertwine their fingers, smoothing Oikawa’s porcelain skin with his thumb. It wasn’t normal to think Oikawa was beautiful, to notice the way his muscles moved under his jersey and to want to stare into his maroon eyes with Iwa’s plain brown ones. 

 

He knew it wasn’t normal to want to reach up and kiss Oikawa. He knew he shouldn’t even imagine the way his lips would feel against his own, soft and gentle, and he knows picturing his hands tousling Oikawa’s hair makes it worse and that his dreams of Oikawa would never be a reality. Because Oikawa’s not gay.

 

Iwa wasn’t sure he was either. He’d never really liked any other boys than Oikawa, and his feelings towards him couldn’t be categorized into either romantic or platonic. Loving Oikawa was an entirely new love, one without a name. 

 

The kind of love that’s a warmth pressed against your side, the moment of quiet in the morning before the other flutters their eyes open, the kind of love that makes you feel whole. An Oikawa kind of love. 

 

Anyway, even if Oikawa liked boys, there would be no way the kind of boys he liked would be the Iwa kind of boys. He wouldn’t like boys with broad backs and wide fingers and darkened skin like Iwa. He would like the pretty kind, the ones that are everything Iwa is not, the ones with glistening eyes and soft hair and that smell of home and bonfires and whose touch is delicate but purposeful.

 

Iwa knew that he wasn’t what Oikawa would ever want, but it didn’t stop his mind from wandering to bad places where images of their hands, lips, bodies together lived. Though he knew it was dirty and he was bad and he shouldn’t think such things, he could never fully push them from his mind. 

 

As a child his family were hostile towards homosexuals. It’s wrong, they’d say. It’s wrong and shameful and, Hajime, if you were to ever bring home a boy, do you know how disappointed we’d be in you? That is not our son.

 

Iwa had shook his head, fear tingling along the back of his neck, though at the time he wasn’t sure why. Tears prickled in the corners of his eyes, wondering why something so simple could result in his own mother embarrassed to call him her son. So Iwaizumi was not gay, because loving Oikawa was not romantic. It was just Oikawa.  
This kind of love was normal to him, basic. It was something that had simply always been there. Iwa doesn’t remember Oikawa not by his side, he can’t recall a day he’d call him Shittykawa or some other nickname and Oikawa would punch him in the arm and say “mean, Iwa-chan.”

 

All these words, these emotions had been and will stay bottled deep inside Iwa. He would never tell him he loved him. He wouldn’t sacrifice his best friend for the world, even if it meant painful unrequited feelings until the end of time. It wasn’t so bad now, anyways. He’d gotten so used to repressing this it almost had disappeared completely, but the thoughts remain a tightly wound ball in the back of his mind.

 

Iwa does a lot of sighing. He sighs over homework, over missed points, over trivial things like the order of the lunch line and how wouldn’t it be nice if people actually moved out of the way. He definitely sighs over Oikawa. 

 

At lunch, they sit together in the courtyard, knees touching as Oikawa unwraps his sandwich (turkey and cheese) and takes a bite. Iwa stares at his lunch (peanut butter and jelly), absently picking at the corner of his lunch bag until it ripped. Lately he’d been thinking a lot.

 

The sort of thinking where you lay in bed and just stare and stare and the next morning you can’t quite place when you fell asleep. Iwa was thinking about why recently his chest had felt tighter thinking about Oikawa. That didn’t happen any more-he had learned to repress that all their first year of high school. The only thing that was different was that Oikawa had been more touchy than usual this past week. 

 

Oikawa was usually touchy; always finding a way to make contact with someone, even if they’d only just met. But lately, it had been almost too much for Iwa. Two days ago he had cupped his chin in his hand to focus Iwa’s eyes on him. 

 

Iwa had slapped his hand away and turned his back, desperately trying to hide the blush that crept up his neck, but Oikawa’s giggle showed he’d already seen. 

 

Yesterday, walking home from practice, Iwa had been distracted by the sunset and turned away for a moment, only to suddenly feel a hand in his own. Oikawa had wrapped his fingers around Iwa’s hand, his sweater sleeve pressed against his palm. It wasn’t the kind of holding hands Iwa longed for, the sort where you knit your fingers together, but he wasn’t going to complain. 

 

This time he didn’t pull away or let go, earning a triumphant huff from Oikawa. Iwa wasn’t really sure what sparked this. He hadn’t had a girlfriend in a while, but that had happened before and he hadn’t been this needy. 

 

Secretly, Iwa loved it. He loved being the one who Oikawa came to, even if it was just a touch on the shoulder or a hand brushed across his cheek.

 

Then, the next day, they went to Iwa’s, sprawled on their stomachs on the floor, textbooks open but not really studying. Soft music played from the corner of the room, and Oikawa humming quietly. This was how Iwa liked it, this comfortable silence peppered with familiar sounds. Warm light flooded through the curtains, casting shadows of the two boys and throwing a gold glow onto Oikawa’s caramel curls. 

 

Oikawa flipped through pages and back again, fidgeting and eventually rolling over onto his back, breathing out and spreading his arms. 

 

“Iwa-chan, I hate geometry,” he said, turning his head to look at Iwa. Iwa sighed and closed his book (To Kill A Mockingbird. He had already read it twice before). 

 

“Do you want help?” Iwa took geometry last year, and he didn’t think he was too bad at it. Oikawa hummed, as if thinking about the offer, before shaking his head. 

 

“No, I don’t want to look at triangles anymore,” he said, wiggling his socked toes. He stared up at the ceiling, observing the stuck-on glow stars. Iwa went back to his book, tucking the image of Oikawa’s profile, bathed in the setting sunlight, in the corner of his mind. 

 

“Iwa-chan,” Oikawa began slowly, still looking at the ceiling. Iwa turned back to Oikawa, expecting something about volleyball, or maybe school, or more likely what was for dinner. 

 

What Iwa was not prepared for was Oikawa’s question. So demanding yet so smoothly said, the way the words rolled off his tongue so easily. 

 

“Have you ever kissed anyone, Iwa-chan?”

 

Iwa’s eyes widened, lips parting as he choked on his words. He stared hard at his book, desperately trying to push down his blush. 

 

“I-I, uh, no I...haven’t…” he managed to choke out. Oikawa hummed, now sitting, body propped up by his arms behind him. He looked at Iwa from under his eyelashes, blinking slowly as if calculating the situation. 

 

“I have.” He says casually, not boasting, but with an air that Iwa couldn’t quite place. He reaches a hand to his hair and tucks a loose strand behind his ear. He was waiting for the other boy to reply.

 

“Yeah,” Iwa says quietly. He knows. He was actually there for Oikawa’s first kiss; with some girl he’d forgotten the name of in a cafe after school. Iwa still remembers having to force himself to look away, pangs of jealousy shooting through him. He remembers thinking Oikawa must’ve tasted like the vanilla latte he’d had.

 

“Not to brag,” Oikawa continued, “but I think I’m pretty good,” he says, lips curling ever so slightly into a smile. Then he turns completely to face Iwa, eyes sparkling mischievously.

 

“Do you want to try it?”

 

Iwa swears he’s heard wrong. No. No. This could not be happening. Oikawa had not just asked to kiss him. Not his Oikawa, not the Oikawa who loves soft girls with flowing hair and pleated skirts and girls with sparkling eyes and fluttery eyelashes and just girls, girls, girls.

 

He doesn’t want to kiss him because he likes him back. That simply could not be the case. Iwa’s heart seems to sink into his stomach as he knows his, he truly does, but the fact that Oikawa’s offered to do something Iwa’s been longing for for however many excruciating years could not be just passed up.

 

“Iwa-chan?” Oikawa says, softer this time. Iwa realizes he’s been giving the floor a death stare. “We don’t have to if you don’t want to. I just thought it might be fun.” 

 

Iwa balls his fists, suddenly angry. This is just that for Oikawa - fun. Kissing wouldn’t mean anything to him. He looks at Oikawa, eyebrows furrowed. When their eyes meet Iwa can’t be upset with him. He doesn’t know. He couldn’t.

 

But as if he'd read his mind, Oikawa says two words. 

 

“I know.” 

 

Iwa’s breath catches in his throat. He knows? Iwa slaps himself mentally-how could he be so dumb as to think he was so good at hiding whatever feelings these were? Oikawa was smart, smarter than Iwa had previously thought. How long had he known?

 

“Oikawa, I-” Iwa begins, wanting to apologize and apologize again. He’d ruined the only true relationship he’d ever had, and he’d lost his best friend. This was all his fault. A dark knot twisted in his stomach.

 

“You don’t have to say anything,” Oikawa says, suddenly sitting beside Iwa. He barely remembers when he moved. Oikawa danced his fingers over Iwa’s clenched hands, smoothing the knuckles then turning his hand to trace circles on his palm. Then he laced their fingers together; delicately, cautiously. Iwa felt electricity zip through his veins. 

 

Oikawa’s hands were just as soft and warm as Iwa had thought, even more so. This was better than a dream, because Oikawa had wanted to hold his hand, wanted to touch his fingers, wanted to be close to him. 

 

“I’ve known for a while.” Oikawa says quietly, and Iwa feels a physical pain in his chest. But then Oikawa keeps talking, and the pain begins to subside, the others’ words soothing and calming him. 

 

“At first I was confused,” he begins, still moving the pads of his fingers over Iwa’s skin. “And obviously flattered. I never thought someone as fantastic as you could like someone like me.” Oikawa laughs softly, unaware of the almost hilarious irony. Oikawa didn’t think he was worthy of Iwa. 

 

Oikawa Tooru, the boy who won the hearts of the entire female (and probably male) population of Aoba Johsai High, the boy whose smile could kill, the boy whose serve struck fear into opponents’ hearts, the boy who cared so deeply and so truly, the boy who would practice, practice, practice, until it was the death of him. 

 

This was the same boy who did not feel good enough for someone like Iwaizumi.

 

Iwa wanted to say this, to tell Oikawa everything he’d bottled up the last five years, but he couldn’t. His voice caught in his throat, unable to muster a word. That was okay. Oikawa kept talking, and Iwa liked him so close, so close he could feel his warm breath on his cheek.

 

“And then I started to think about you.” Oikawa squeezed his hand, and Iwa feels like he’s going to pass out.

 

“I’m not going to lie to you. I didn’t like you until last year,” he says, but Iwa can barely process what he’s said or take any offense. He liked him. He likes him. 

 

“Remember Kaede?” He says, and Iwa nods. They dated for four or five months last year before Oikawa broke it off, saying quite bluntly that he cared more for volleyball than for her. He also remembers watching them kiss once, after she had come to watch a game they’d won. He’d never seen Oikawa kiss this passionately, one hand tangled in her hair and the other around her waist, pressing her body flush with his.

 

When they’d finished, Oikawa’s jersey and hair were ruffled, eyes sparkling and suppressing a grin as he rested an arm on Iwa’s shoulder.

 

Right now, Oikawa seemed to be thinking of that same moment. 

 

“That time I kissed her after the game…” Oikawa’s tongue darted out to lick his bottom lip. Iwa tilts his head. He barely saw him nervous, ever.

 

“I was thinking about you. You know, imagining she was you.”

 

Iwa blinks slowly. He felt lightheaded. Oikawa had no idea how many times Iwa had replayed that kiss over again in his head, replacing Kaede for himself. Knowing Oikawa imagined the same...sent a chill down his spine. Iwa wanted to kiss him. Right now. His heart ached to do so, to just reach out and bring their lips together. Oikawa’s confession changed everything.

 

Just ten minutes ago Iwa’s love was unrequited, his desire for the other boy nothing more than longing. His kiss would have meant nothing before, but now, now, it meant so much. It meant five long years of wanting to be Oikawa’s, wanting Oikawa to be his. It meant every one of their childhood memories, every practice and game and every time they went for dumplings.  
“I’ve wanted to kiss you for so long,” Iwa blurts out without thinking. A blush spreads across his cheeks and down his neck. The words come out much needier than Iwa intended, and he thinks Oikawa is going to make fun of him. But he doesn’t.

 

What he does do is lean even closer to Iwa, brushing their cheeks together. Iwa lets himself relax just a little, his shoulders loosening and resting on Oikawa’s.

 

“Then do it,” Oikawa breathes, just inches away from his ear. It sends a chill down Iwa’s spine. They’re still on the floor - Iwa’s back pressed against the side of his bed. They’re still holding hands. This is still real. 

 

With the hand not laced with Iwa’s, Oikawa lifts Iwa’s chin so he’s looking straight into his eyes. Iwa swallows, embarrassed, but he doesn’t try to erase his blush. Suddenly he wants Oikawa to know it was him who made him feel this way, him who made his heart all fluttery. This is the first time Iwa can study the other boy’s eyes without worrying about getting caught or teased. He doesn’t want to look away, doesn’t want this to end, doesn’t want to ever miss the slight weight of Oikawa’s body leaning into him.

 

Oikawa’s eyes are seas of maroon, flecked with gold and caramel and they gleam in the afternoon light. Iwa watches his long eyelashes flutter when he blinks. And then Oikawa lets go of his hand, moving to wrap it around the back of Iwa’s neck. Oikawa’s practically sitting in his lap now, slender legs wrapped around Iwa’s waist. He presses their foreheads together, smiling, and finally, Iwa smiles too.

 

And when Oikawa kisses him, he’s still smiling.

 

Oikawa’s lips are soft and warm and he tastes of cherry lifesavers and summer. His hands are tangled in Iwa’s hair, pulling them even closer together. Iwa’s arms are wrapped around Oikawa’s back, absentmindedly smoothing his fingers over the fabric of Oikawa’s shirt.

 

They fit perfectly together, and even when Iwa bumps Oikawa’s nose with his own he doesn’t mind. He smiles against his lips, sending sparks through his body. Oikawa tilts his head, deepening the kiss and though Iwa doesn’t know what to do, Oikawa surely does. He moves his hands to cup Iwa’s face, gentle and affectionate. Iwa runs his hands through Oikawa’s curls, leaning back and relaxing his shoulders. 

 

Oikawa breaks away, and Iwa huffs disappointedly. He wants the warmth of Oikawa back. Instead he looks down at Iwa, eyes so full of admiration and love. He flicks his eyes over Iwa’s face, studying the way he’s washed in light and how it illuminates his caramel skin. Oikawa laughs, and Iwa wishes he could listen to it forever.

 

Oikawa begins to pepper small kisses on Iwa’s cheeks and forehead and nose, everywhere but his lips, teasing him. 

 

“Kiss me,” Iwa whispers, sounding much needier than he wanted to. He reaches up to touch Oikawa’s face, tugging him back down to meet their lips. Oikawa resists, smiling wordlessly and ducking his head to ghost his lips over the skin of Iwa’s neck.

 

“Patience,” he murmurs, before pressing tiny kisses down his neck to his collarbone. At first they’re light, soft and much too short. But as Iwa’s hands find their way back to Oikawa’s hair he increases the pressure, and Iwa knows he’s going to have a trail of reddening marks on his skin. He would never admit it but he liked that - liked that the lovebites meant he belonged to Oikawa, even if it was just for these few moments. 

 

To say Oikawa was his weak spot normally would be a little far, but right now, with Oikawa’s lips against his skin, he was hopeless. Iwa’s not sure what comes over him, but suddenly he’s got Oikawa pinned against the bed, his legs still wrapped around his waist. How can he want more when he’s already been given so much?

 

Cautiously, Iwa kisses Oikawa’s jaw, and when Oikawa is still he hesitates, pulling back to flick his eyes across his face. Oikawa wraps his arms around Iwa’s neck, studying his handiwork from earlier in the form of rosebud bites. He blinks back up to meet the other boy’s. 

 

“Kiss me,” he says, repeating Iwa’s words from before, voice low and sultry and something about it moves chills over Iwa’s skin.

 

Ducking his head Iwa places small kisses along Oikawa’s collarbone, the same as he had moments before. It was almost as if he was returning his message - mine as I’m yours. Balling the fabric of Oikawa’s tshirt in his hands he presses their bodies closer, feeling Oikawa’s grip around his waist tighten. 

 

Tilting his head he mouths over the side of Oikawa’s neck, gripping his hair in his hands.

 

“Hajime,” Oikawa breathes, letting his head fall back against the side of the bed. Iwa’s pulse speeds, revelling in the way his name sounds when Oikawa moans it. 

 

Iwa cups Oikawa’s cheeks in his hands, moving his thumbs over the skin in slow, smooth circles. He kisses his lips in lazy, honey-like movements, after each time moving away and letting Oikawa follow.

 

“You’re an idiot,” Iwa mumbles, pressing their foreheads together, Oikawa’s hands still resting on the small of his back, a warm reminder that this is real and he is here.

 

Oikawa just hums and steals one last kiss before untangling himself from Iwa. Iwa doesn’t want him to go, immediately missing the weight of his body pressed against his chest. 

 

Oikawa laces their fingers together casually, as if they’d been doing this for years. He lays back into the other boy, back pressed against Iwa’s chest. Iwa rests his head on Oikawa’s, letting him play with his fingers.  
“Come over tomorrow,” Oikawa says, feeling Iwa blush and suppressing a giggle. “It’ll be fun.”

 

Iwa can’t see his face yet he knows his eyes are twinkling and Iwa smacks his forearm lightly.

 

“Maybe I will,” he replies, thinking of being greeted with a kiss instead of just a smile and wave. Iwa places a light kiss to the top of Oikawa’s head, nuzzling his nose in his now-ruffled curls.

 

He liked this, thought he was still unsure of it. What label did this have? Were they dating? Had they been? Were they in love?

 

Iwa decided it was simple.

 

It was an Oikawa kind of love; the sort that’s a warmth pressed against his side, the moment of quiet in the morning before the other flutters his eyes open, the kind of love that made him feel whole. 

 

Yeah. This is what it was. It was just Oikawa. 

 

Just Oikawa, yet it was more. So much more.

**Author's Note:**

> thank u for readin!! if u liked it pleas leave me a lil comment i love them ( ˘ ³˘)♥ also sorry if this was bad ive nvr written iwaoi b4 even tho they r my kiddos im sorry hajime


End file.
